by May Dawson
“I don’t know what you want me to say, sir.”
“I know you don’t know what to say. It’s lies or nothing, hm?” He shuffled through the papers on the desk, then lifted one before he let it flutter back to the tabletop. “I found the backdated permission letter ‘Dean McCauley’ signed. Very clever. Your little band of resourceful reprobates will be quite the force to be reckoned with in the patrols if you can be reformed.”
I glanced away, because I couldn’t argue with him without making things worse.
“I’m glad you came back,” he said. “I assume it was good news, then?”
Silence stretched between us as I debated what to say.
He paused, as if he knew just what I was thinking. “No, I suppose it wasn’t, or you’d be quick to tell me, wouldn’t you? Even if it might lead to one of those…groundings… you all hate so much.”
He seemed amused by the thought of grounding us.
“Maybe you’ll pleasantly surprise me and actually listen to what I’m going to tell you next,” he said. “I don’t care that you have a gift for magic. It’s more common in the packs than anyone will admit, although talking about it—or showing off—is pure foolishness.”
He shot me a dark look as my lips parted to protest. “I’m not in the mood for more nonsense. I know, you know, and we will both keep it a secret. There are people who would love to see the whole Northsea pack strung up as witches, dangling from the trees, and I’m not going to war with the Council over one foolish girl who can’t resist showing off her tricks. Do you understand me?”
His words washed over me, leaving me confused. But I could agree to keep my magic a secret. “I do, sir.”
“Great,” he said. “I don’t particularly care that you’re a girl, either.”
A woman technically, but that doesn’t seem like the time to bring that up.
Besides, it would be nice if he meant it. “All I’ve wanted is the same chance to prove myself that everyone else has.”
Even though the bar was always set higher for me.
“I’ve heard quite a bit about you so far,” he muttered, almost to himself. He looked up. “However, I’m not sure how seriously to take any of it. So, you have a fresh start, with me at least.”
I didn’t have it in me to say thank you, because I didn’t trust him. Instead, the two of us just stared at each other, uncomfortable silence blanketing the room. It felt like a staring contest, but I didn’t know the rules.
“You’re dismissed,” he said finally.
“Have a good evening, sir.”
When he let me go, I walked into the empty, quiet hallway to find Rafe leaning against the wall.
Rafe’s arms were crossed over his chest, drawing his shirt taut along the sleek lines of his tapered waist. He was looking away down the hall, as if he was lost in thought, and his face in profile was chiseled, with a soft poutiness to his lips like they’d be perfect for kissing. I fought the familiar rise of attraction I always felt when I saw him.
Then he turned dark, angry eyes toward me, and it was a lot easier to hate the beautiful man.
“Are you all right?” he asked me.
“Why?” I asked wearily. “Are you here to fix that?”
His mouth tightened. I hadn’t meant to start a fight right away. His gaze flickered over my shoulder at the dean’s office, as if he wondered if Clearborn had overheard.
“I came to make sure you got back to your room safely after what seemed like a long and terrifying couple of days,” he said.
They certainly had been. I needed a shower and a nap and maybe some restorative sex with the men I adored. I headed down the hall, my shoes still squelching.
“Northsea,” he said.
“What?” I didn’t stop.
He tossed something after me. There was a thunk, thunk sound right behind me, and I turned to realize he’d just thrown a pair of sneakers at me.
“I thought you might like some dry shoes,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said, stuffing my feet into them. I picked up the wet laces of my bedraggled, muddy sneakers. “There’s a real possibility I’m going to burn these.”
Despite the forceful shower they’d had, the shoes were still soaked in blood stains.
Rafe’s sharp gaze fell on them. “Who’s blood?”
“Who’s blood isn’t on there, at this point?” I couldn’t talk about how I’d saved Tyson’s life. My magic felt like something I should be proud of.
But Clearborn was right.
The two of us walked in silence until we stepped out into the evening chill. The sun was setting early now, as we came closer and closer to winter. I shivered; I felt bone-cold and bone-tired after today, as if I’d never be warm again.
“Take my jacket.” Rafe was already slipping off his blazer.
A mirthless smile touched my lips. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” he demanded, sounding offended.
“Because you always regret being nice to first-years, remember?” I asked, and even I heard the faint teasing note in my voice. I was surprised by that little bit of liveliness after this day.
“That’s a valid point,” he said, his voice mockingly considering.
“So what did I miss?”
“A bit,” he said, his voice dry. “Not as much as we missed, apparently, by staying home.”
The way Clearborn had seemed to figure out everything I was up to with Penn and Tyson made tension squirm through my stomach. “What do you think about the new dean?”
“I think you’d better stay out of trouble for once,” he said.
“Rafe.” I turned to face him. “I’m always trying to stay out of trouble.”
His brows darted up in genuine surprise. “That’s such a ridiculous statement that I’m having a tough time forming a proper rebuttal.”
“I am,” I said. “I just… do what I have to do.”
“You are a fucking nexus of chaos,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. He reached out and caught my arm, tugging me closer to him. Despite the irritation I felt with him, a strange spark of desire ran through my body. His touch seemed to warm my skin.
“I need you to listen,” he said. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I don’t want to get hurt either,” I said, frowning. “Which made the last forty-eight hours very alarming. But luckily, I came through all right.”
Rafe blew out a breath. “Yeah. I let you and Ty go on that hare-brained scheme—“
“Was it all my idea?” I demanded. “I feel like you were one of the hares in that planning session.”
“Maddie,” he growled. He stopped, raking his hand through his hair in frustration. I knew the feeling. I had so much I should tell him and Lex, but it was hard to talk to him sometimes. The tension between us stretched so long that I could barely breathe.
“You were late,” he snapped, finally. “You should’ve come back earlier, and you should’ve reported where you were going so we’d know where to look.”
“You weren’t supposed to know anyway.”
“You think I give a fuck about getting in trouble if you’re in danger?”
“I’m fine.” I said.
“And then you came back here,” he said. “So you found your father.”
“Not exactly. I found out that Joan’s husband isn’t my father, though.” Before Rafe could say anything else—because he seemed to be thoughtfully selecting words which I probably wouldn’t care for—I went on. “I came back because you had to know what the witches are planning.”
His brows jerked a little higher, which I hadn’t previously thought was possible. “You could’ve texted.”
“No one would’ve believed us,” I said. “The witches using a curse to ‘cure’ us? It sounds crazy.”
“What sounds crazy is coming back here—”
“Are you mad at me for being late or mad at me for coming back or mad at me for going?” I demanded. “It’s hard to keep up.”
“I’
m mad at you for almost getting yourself killed,” he said. “For putting yourself in danger over and over again—”
“Yeah, that’s totally unlike what any shifter fighter does on a regular basis.”
“You’re reckless.”
“You’re angry,” I said, tilting my head to one side. I studied him. “Do you have any other setting besides angry?”
“Not when it comes to you.” He headed across campus, toward the bright lights of our house, which shone out into the night.
But we both knew that was a lie.
I was pretty sure Rafe was only so angry because it was more comfortable for him than any of the other feelings.
And despite everything, that made the faintest smile curl my lips before I took off after him.
Chapter Forty-Four
Jensen
Waiting for Maddie to come back was killing me. I’d given my statement to the Patrol Guard—we all had—and now there was the possibility of facing the Dean again.
Which didn’t exactly fill me with excitement.
I didn’t want to miss Maddie when she came back, but I headed toward the library, hoping to find something to lose myself in. As I clattered down the central stairs toward the main lobby, though, a first-year working at one of the tables rose from his seat. As I headed toward the library, he ran to catch up to me.
“Jensen,” he said.
I turned. I didn’t even know his name. “Yes?”
“I wanted to ask your advice about something.” He looked embarrassed, and pink flushed his cheeks.
“What’s your name?” I asked. I should know it. We had a small house. I’d just spent most of the year paying attention to just one first-year in particular. Maddie Northsea had kept me busy.
“Bret Flemington,” he said. He glanced down the hall, as if he was reluctant to blurt out whatever he was thinking where he might be overheard.
“I was headed to the library,” I said. “If you want to come along and talk, it’s usually quiet in there. Since you know, half the students here can’t read.”
He smiled faintly, although sometimes I thought maybe it was true. He followed me into the library, which was quiet.
“What is it?” I asked. I moved along the stacks slowly, scanning the titles. Sometimes it’s easier for people to talk when you’re not staring at them.
That might be especially true for me, since some people find my golden eyes distressing.
“I heard that you were, ah,” he hesitated.
I resisted the temptation to turn toward him. People had probably heard that I was ah a lot of things. I’d developed quite the reputation over the past few years.
“Punished,” he finally managed to say.
“Oh, beaten with a tawse? Yes.”
“How was it?”
“If you’re going to ask me out, I prefer a night out at the movies,” I said. I turned to him, leaning against the stacks. His anxiety was etched across his face. “I take it you’re up?”
He nodded.
“Look, it hurts,” I said. “But it’s not going to kill you. It’s not anything that’s going to last. You’ll walk out of there and leave it behind you.”
I rubbed the bruises and welts across my shoulder absently; the skin that had broken open under the tawse was healing now, and it itched. “Well, mostly. But in the long run, it doesn’t matter.”
“How much did it hurt?”
I shrugged. It was hard for me to separate the first round from the second, which was the one that had caused the worst of the damage. Otherwise, I doubted I’d have more than bruises.
“Our lives involve a certain amount of pain,” I said. “Just look at it as training. Something to endure. You’ll be stronger for it in the long run.”
I wasn’t sure I believed any of that shit, but it might make him feel better.
Hell, maybe I did believe it. Maybe everything I went through made me tougher, stronger, and that made it easier to convince myself I could bear it. As long as I was the only one who got hurt, I could see it all as building my strength.
“I’m afraid I’m going to embarrass myself,” he said in a whisper. “Duncan doesn’t want to see any of us…”
“You’re in Duncan’s patrol?” Well, there was a reason to seek help. “He doesn’t what? Doesn’t want to see you cry?”
His face shifted, as if he was uncomfortable I’d named it directly, but I wasn’t going to pretend.
“It’s easier if you can be cold during it,” I admitted. “But unless you’ve seen Duncan take the tawse—which I would pay money for, actually, I’ll definitely take that over a night at the movies—you don’t know that he’d have any easier of a time of it, right? No matter what he tells himself and you.”
“Shifter men don’t exactly cry,” he said, his lips curling up on one side.
But I had a feeling that he might, and I wracked my brain, trying to figure out what to tell him to make him feel better.
“And we’re all doing so great, right?” I said. “Listen, everyone’s eyes water from pain. That’s unavoidable. But if it goes further than that…”
I never cried. Not since Eliza died.
“What?” he asked, and I realized he was hanging on my every word, as if I would really tell him something like if it goes further than that, you’ll never be a real man. Never lead a patrol.
“Controlling your emotions is just a matter of practice,” I said. “It doesn’t have anything to do with strength or mettle or courage. None of that bullshit. You aren’t weak if you cry when someone hurts you.”
He gazed at the shelves across from us, as if he wasn’t sure he believed me. Then he nodded.
“You’re going to be all right,” I said, clapping his shoulder. I pulled a book of e.e. cumming’s poetry, one I’d read before, out of the shelves and headed for the door. “And if you want to talk to me about it after, I’m in 210.”
I didn’t even know why I’d just said that. I wasn’t the kind of person that people came to for advice. Sarcasm, sure. Not advice.
But right before I let the door slam shut behind me, I heard him call, “Thank you!”
I wondered if maybe I could be the kind of person that said what people needed to hear, after all.
But I was probably going to be a sarcastic ass about it most of the time, let’s be real.
Chapter Forty-Five
Jensen
When I walked into the hallway upstairs, Maddie was in the doorway of the guys’ room, talking to Penn. She turned when she heard my footsteps, and her smile was as bright as the sun coming out. God, I hadn’t realized how much I missed her until she gave me that look. It felt like my heart had been wrenched out of my chest and I didn’t know until she put it back.
Had she been waiting there to make sure she didn’t miss me?
She ran down the hall to me and leapt into my arms. I caught her tight against me, and when her fingers laced behind my neck, I didn’t even wince at her forearms resting against the welts on my shoulders.
I didn’t want her to know I’d taken that beating for her. This girl was too smart for her own good, but that was part of why I loved her so much.
“I missed you,” she murmured into my ear.
“You’ve got no idea how much I missed you,” I whispered. I’d always been so stone-faced, and it was hard for me to turn off. I hoped she knew how much she meant to me.
She slipped out of my arms, then caught my hand with hers and tugged me behind her. I followed her into her bedroom.
“I need to tell you something,” she said, easing the door shut behind us.
I nodded, crossing my arms as I waited.
She smiled, running her hand up my arm, and I wondered what had sparked the amused, affectionate way she looked at me.
“Ty asked me to be his girlfriend while we were on our misadventure,” she said.
I’d seen Maddie and Ty coming, although I hadn’t pictured us labeling it as boyfriend and girlfriend.
&n
bsp; “Sure,” I said. “I expected that. Being trapped by witches and coated in blood was probably pretty romantic.”
“Why are you always so sarcastic?”
“Why are you always so cute?” I caught her around the waist and picked her up, setting her on top of her desk. I stayed close to her, my hands braced on either side of her hips. I didn’t want to be far away from her again.
She cocked an eyebrow at me. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t upset.”
“Obviously not,” I said.
She patted my cheek affectionately. “Nothing is obvious, when it comes to you.”
“I’m not mad or jealous or even mildly irked,” I said. “As long as you’re always mine too.”
Because I didn’t know what I’d do without this brilliant, gorgeous girl who was so full of life. If people said I was made of ice, she was the sunshine that melted it away.
“Always,” she promised. A teasing smile tilted her lips. “I thought maybe we could welcome Tyson to the family…”
“Do you intend to have sex with all your partners at once every time you collect a new one?” I teased, raising my eyebrows. “Because I think we both know you aren’t done.”
She tapped one finger against the curve of her beautiful mouth. “Who else, do you think?”
“Oh, come on. We all know.” I couldn’t stand not kissing her anymore, so I leaned down and nibbled her throat. She laughed and squirmed against me, but even as she pushed me away and murmured that it tickled, she wrapped her thighs around my waist to hold me close.
When our lips finally met, her lips tasted sweet, full of warmth and affection.
“Should I get Tyson and Penn?” she whispered.
I hesitated. I was already painfully hard at her words, but I didn’t want her to see my back before I had a chance to heal. “It’s been a long day. Don’t you think you should get some rest before we do depraved things?”
“Wonderful depraved things?” Her brows arched above her vivid, ocean-blue eyes. “I think that as bad as today was, who knows what tomorrow brings?”
“Don’t start that,” I warned her. “You’re supposed to be the optimistic one. I’ve got pessimism locked down.”
